


3rd of July

by Thatoneguyyoudidntknowfromtumblr



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 08:24:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4256310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatoneguyyoudidntknowfromtumblr/pseuds/Thatoneguyyoudidntknowfromtumblr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every year since 2004 I've written a small self-insert piece about a yearly conversation between myself and Autobot Jazz from the Transformers G1 continuity.  It's become a touch-stone for the changes in my life.  </p><p>The piece I wrote for 2005 went missing a long time ago, so that year is skipped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 2004

Jazz leaned back, propped his hands against the grass and grinned. What these humans did for a bit of entertainment...

"Big exploding sparklies," one of the smaller ones near him said. He looked over, she caught his eye and grinned, adding under her breath, "I'd love to come by and see the Ark sometime, I'm a huge fan."

He nodded casually to see that he had heard then looked over at his companions, Sideswipe (chatting with some young human females), Sunstreaker (arguing the finer points of different brands of car wax with some middle-aged human males), and Prowl, who was discussing the different ways to set up security for a venue such as they were in. So he looked back to see his new friend had ditched her friends to come and sit beside him. She must have read the question in his gaze because she chuckled a bit. "They don't like robots. I do. So, you ever hear of Jack Johnson?"

"I've heard a couple of his, while switching stations. Not bad. I like the acoustics...different than the other guy who kinda shares his name...John Mayer."

"A friend of mine turned me on to him. Less mellow, just as much t'say about the condition of the world, though he's less cryptic about it." She wrapped her arms around her knees. "Sometimes his stuff gets to me and I've gotta switch it over to...oh, what's his name...I saw him once before Jewel, um, Jason Mraz. Now he's _fun_."

Jazz nodded, pleased. "You've seen him live?"

"Yeah, the parents gave me a birthday present of seeing Jewel and he was opening for her. I shoulda gotten one of his CD's signed...I've always regretted that...um." She paled a bit then blushed, scooting a bit away as a looming shadow fell over her from behind Jazz. He looked up and made a face.

"Hey, come on, you got to talk to the dude about security."

"He asked my advice. Who's your friend?"

But the human had stood and was hastily brushing the grass off her behind and moving to walk away.  "No no, I've got to go anyway. The conversation was keen, Jazz, um, here." She thrust a CD at him and began backing away again, eying Prowl. "It's something I think you'll like. I gotta go find my friends..."

Jazz watched her leave then turned to scowl at Prowl, who was settling down next to him. "See that? You scared her off. We were having a nice conversation, too. What are you--"

Prowl took the CD from him and subspaced it, then turned his head back in the direction they were supposed to be looking as the lights went out. "Shush," he said softly as the humans catcalled and cheered around them, encouraging that the show start sooner rather than later.

They weren't disappointed, and the fireworks came, the harmless shells exploding to the soundtracks the choreographers had thoughtfully provided. Jazz thought he heard his new friend naming the songs for her friends but he was distracted from finding her as Prowl's hand slipped around his waist. He glanced over, surprised, to see another of the explosions glittering in Prowl's optics just before his companion leaned over and kissed him.

It was a very brief kiss and they both looked over just after to see if Sideswipe or Sunstreaker had seen. But apparently the fireworks had mesmerized the two as they were staring with their mouths hanging open, oohing and aahing along with the gathered humans. Jazz chuckled, and returned to watching the show himself, only moving one of the hands that was propping him up to rest on Prowl's.

"That was risky," he murmured, so softly that none of the humans nearby could possibly have heard him. Prowl's shoulders gave a minute movement that could have, if you looked really closely, been called a shrug.

"You're the one who keeps saying I should lighten up," he replied just as softly. Jazz couldn't help exclaiming as an especially cleverly wrought firework burst in the sky and he felt Prowl's hand tighten around his waist.

"Can't say I'm arguin'. Let's enjoy ourselves, shall we?"

"Of course."


	2. 2006

“Hey.”

Jazz looked down and smiled. “Hey there,” he said, leaning over to be more face to face with the little human he'd seen twice before. “Nice hair.”

“Thanks,” she replied, running a hand through locks as red as his Autobot symbol. “Just you this year?”

Jazz nodded, not letting the pang he felt show on his face. “Yeah. Just me.”

“My friends have a pile over there,” she said, pointing to a group of a bout six humans, all curled up like a bunch of puppies, waiting for the fireworks and laughing amongst themselves. “You wanna come?”

Jazz blinked, then grinned. “Sure,” he said, picking his way through the crowd. Soon everyone was curled on his torso, instead of the ground, reveling in the warmth that was coming from his recently-used engine.

The lights went out, and no one questioned the lone transformer in the crowd of humans, as everyone yelled and cat-called, encouraging the show to start. Jazz gave an inward sigh, looking up at the sky and wishing Prowl were around. Snuggling felt nice, even if it was seven humans draped over the stomach of a lone Autobot.

Just as the first rockets were exploding in the sky before them, and a cheer went up from the humans around him, Jazz felt gentle lips pressing a kiss to his helmet. He looked up and smiled, relaxing back against his mate.

-Hello,- he said via internal comm.

-Hello,- Prowl replied softly, shifting so that Jazz could lean against him and not dislodge his passengers. -You've not been wanting for company, I see.-

-Jealous?- Jazz teased gently, then glanced up as the fireworks _really_ began. The pair of black and whites fell silent, every now and again exclaiming at a particularly clever firework. Jazz's red-headed friend announced that she liked the pink ones, and the red ones that exploded into silver sparkles at the end and everyone chuckled. It started a round of announcing favorites, after which Jazz looked up at Prowl and smiled again.

-I have my favorite right here,- he murmured, pulling Prowl down for a soft kiss. Prowl chuckled _very_ softly, shaking his head.

-Insatiable creature,- he murmured, directing both of their attentions back to the fireworks.

-Ah, but you love me for it,- Jazz chuckled back.

-I do,- Prowl replied softly, resting his head on Jazz's helmet. -I do.-


	3. 2007

Each year the atmosphere was different, Jazz had noticed. This year, there was something pensive and irritated about the crowd, though the adults were trying to leave it behind. A lot of them had plastic cups of fermented plant matter, others had stronger doses of forgetfulness hidden in paper bags.

He took up his usual spot, lounging carefully against the building and keeping an optic out for familiar ruby locks. He didn't find them, but he found a familiar body sporting coal locks and strawberry bangs. He was about to call out to her when he noticed something else new; the same symbol that adorned his chest was half hidden by her shirt, adorning her left shoulder-blade. Interesting...

He waited until she left her single companion and went wandering, probably in search of liquid, as he'd seen plant matter in the bag her friend had been carrying.

"Branded yourself, I see," he said with a chuckle as she passed. The girl glanced up and grinned, laughing.

"Hey there. Seen the show?"

Jazz grimaced. "Yeah. I enjoyed it, for the most part."

"I was wondering if I was gonna see you this year or if it had actually happened."

"Special effects," Jazz assured her. "Nothin' but special effects. I'm still here an' will be for a while. What's with the ink?"

"Wanted to show my alliance," she replied, standing up straight with a slight scowl.

"Right, right," he said, trying to disarm her with a smile. She wasn't nearly as contained as she had been in the past-- she held less back, now.

"Solo?" She asked after paying for her cans of liquid.

"Naw," Jazz replied, "someone'll be around, soon. It's near sunset, wanna pull a repeat of last year?"

"Won't be as many of us," she replied, turning to whistle at her friend and make a demanding 'get over here' gesture. "But if you're willin' t'be a mattress then I'm not gonna argue."

A bit later Jazz once again had six humans lounging on him, all getting comfortable just as those who controlled the timing started counting down the seconds before the lights went out. The music started and about three shells exploded in the sky...the pause drew to be about three minutes long.

"Was that it?" His friend wondered, sounding amused. "Hurrah! Best show yet!"

"Shush," he was saying, just as a few more cannons went off. In the light from the new fireworks someone settled beside him and he grinned at Prowl. Several of the heads on his stomach swiveled around to watch the police car get comfortable before the explosions caught their attention once more.

-Hey there,- Jazz said via internal comm. -You're late.-

-I lost track of time,- Prowl returned through the same method. -Shh, the show is really starting.-

Afterward everyone agreed that it was the best show they'd seen in years. Jazz looked down at his friend as she demanded to be closer next year, so that the shells would look like they were exploding overhead.

"Maybe the ones that you can feel in your chest as they go will be that much more intense," one of the other girls agreed.

"And maybe the bratlet's'll stay off our fragging blanket," Jazz's friend growled. Everyone laughed with easy familiarity; it apparently wasn't the first time she had made such a comment.

Jazz leaned carefully over to press his lips against Prowl's audio as he spoke. "We are comin' back next year, aren't we?"

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," Prowl replied with a smile


	4. 2008

He'd never yawned before they had crashed on earth. He didn't entirely understand why he did now, other than it kinda felt good. A way his body let him know, without alarms or flashing lights in his vision, that it would really rather either go back into the recharge state or get to recharge soon. The strangest thing was how he would mentally yawn when he physically couldn't, like now, when he was in vehicle form.

A car pulled up beside him, maroon, dusty, spider webs in the rear-view. The engine purred, however, a sign that though the paint was neglected, the inner workings of the car were carefully taken care of. Belatedly he popped up his holographic driver and had it casually glance over, as drivers often did. He started slightly when a familiar face was transmitted to his visual receptors. Just as he was about to say Hello, however, the girl, whose name he now realized he had never gotten, turned up her radio and pulled away from the line into the intersection. The light had turned. The song that had perked her interest drifted through the air faintly until he spun his radio through the stations to find it himself.

_The cars are moving like a half a mile an hour if that_

_I started staring at the passengers waving goodbye_

_Can you tell me what was ever really special about me all this time?_

_But I believe the world is burning to the ground_

_Oh well I guess we're gonna find out_

_Let's see how far we've come_

_Let's see how far we've come_

_Well I, believe, its all, coming to an end_

_Oh well, I guess, we're gonna pretend_

_Let's see how far we've come_

_Let's see how far we've come_

Interesting. Ignoring the fact that he had his left blinker on and was in a turn lane Jazz instead went straight, pulling in front of a driver who, as it was 5:49 am, wasn't quite as swift on the uptake as his friend. He followed her through a left, a right and another left, pulling into the parking lot of a large, single story very light brown building just as the song ended. She got out and eyed him, back pack slung over one shoulder, when he pulled into a bad parking job, the white line outlining the spaces directly between his tires. A white pickup pulled into the small parking lot and disappeared around the corner of the building.

"You know," she said, after the truck had gone, "Ever since he started working here I've always wondered why he parks back there."

"Maybe he likes the exercise walking brings?" Jazz guessed.

"That's the only thinkg I've been able to come up with," the girl agreed, shoving her hands into the pockets of her black jacket. They both fell quiet as the owner of the truck walked past and entered the building, unlocking the door with a key card similar to the one hanging from the girl's pocket. Once he was inside, the girl smiled, though the expression only showed a faint amusement. "It's good to see you. I was wondering how I was gonna let you know I wasn't going to the fireworks this year."

"That makes two of us. Why ain't you goin'?"

"Six AM shift next day. You?"

"The mission I have around here ends tomorrow, a day early. Can't swing two days delay, as much as I'd like to."

"Glad we met up, then."

"So this's where you work?" He asked, watching her. Scarlet locks had vanished for a sort of ash brown with acorn highlights that were, as he didn't detect any chemicals in her hair, natural. The color brought out the depths of her brown eyes, though the way she wore the corlor spoke of a grim acceptance. She gazed up at the building, raising one hand to push through said hair.

"For now. Something even remotely better comes up and I am _so_ gone from this place."

"I can see that," he returned. She checked the watch on the underside of her wrist.

"Well, I gotta go. Next year?"

"If we're both in town, count on it."

"See ya then, Jazz." With that she waved, heading into the building.

Only after she had gone and he was five miles down the road did he realize he had once again forgotten to get her name.  "Damnit. Well...there's always next year."


	5. 2009

A tap on his hood startled him awake, but not so much that he did more than shift.

"Late night?"

A soft chuckle rolled from his vocalizer. "You wouldn't know, seein' as how you blew us off."

"Nights aren't my best time anymore. A human ages."

"Please."

They were standing in a parking lot, the weather cold, the morning gray. It was hard to tell what time it was...probably just after dawn. She was standing in gray and black, hair with its single pink streak among the brown pulled messily back into a tail. The quiet desperation in her stance hadn't changed, but there was a new calm in her eyes.

"I hope you enjoyed the show."

"Woulda been better for company." Jazz shifted, stretching cold relays and cables. "Primus but it gets startlingly chilled around here."

"Climate change.  Didn't used to be like this." She shifted the shopping bag to her other hand, paused, then turned and unlocked the door of the same maroon sedan she had been driving the year before, placing the bag inside. The only changes his sensors noted were a fresh coat of dust and---

"Where'd you get that?" He was referring to the image of a boy urinating onto the Decepticon symbol which was clear on the rear windshield of her vehicle. As he remembered, last year the space beneath the boy had been empty.

She smirked. "Made it. Just another little way of showing my support. How's the big mech?"

"You mean from the movie? Again, all special effects." A radio signal came through and he started his engine, beginning to slowly back out of his parking space. "You should come with me. Be nice to have another music aficionado around."

"I'd love to," she said, watching him. "But I can't run away from this life so easily. Have a good year."

"You too." He pulled out and began to drive away. Again, it only struck him when he was sitting at the red light to leave the parking lot that he hadn't gotten her name.

"It's Carie." His sensors slid to the side, where she was checking over his hood to see if the coast was clear for a right hand turn. He chuckled. "Thanks. Was wonderin' how long that'd take. See you next year?"

"If we're both still around." With that the light changed and she drove away. Though tempted to follow, he instead went straight, taking the back roads in the opposite direction.


	6. 2010

He almost didn't recognize her. She, of course, recognized him and waved him over with an expression that booked no arguments. She had a notebook in her lap and earplugs around her neck, her messily gathered hair reaching half way down her back. Just as he arrived a male with enough facial similarities that he was filed as a potential sire to his friend barked at some adolescents with ferocity that he had never seen from his friends. The younger males quickly backed off, choosing to take the long way around the barrier rather than continue to risk the territorial parent's ire.

With his usual lazy grin he leaned in, fixing his friend with his gaze.  "Okay if I stand here? Don't wanna get my head snapped off."

She grinned back at him. For the first time since they had met six years before, on this very field and at this very event, it was an honest and cheerful grin. "Sure it is, 'cause I say so. Sit'cher aft down, mech. Puppy pile."

When he had settled, making sure everyone behind him could still see, he laid back, more enjoying the cheer and calm of the evening than anything else. He caught catches of their conversations, but never anything concrete enough that he wanted to join in:

"Want me--"

"No, I want five minutes to try to figure it out!"

"The kind of 'holy things' group that had a holy--"

"What the light-dragon-succubus-paladin thing?"

"Here, aim it up a bit more, maybe...?"

That caught his attention. He looked down, curious, to see his friend and two other girls, one a dark beauty, the other with light, curly hair. They made quite the interesting trio, the light, the medium, the dark, all bent around the same palm-sized device. "What're you three doin', there?"

His friend glanced up and flashed a grin. "Playing Mythbusters. I bet you're a fan."

"Wheeljack more'n me."

Before anyone could say more, the announcement that it was time for the anthem came. They fell quiet, not quite sure what direction to look in, since the flags were at the back and the singer in the front, the crowd restless for the real show to start.

"She's not going to be able to hit it--"

Jazz glanced down at his friend to see a sympathetic look on her face just as the song reached its famous climb.

"--In the land of the _free_!"

She'd been right, the last word was short, breathy and not quite on the mark. Still, Jazz gave it a nod for effort, smiling through the rest of the song and the impromptu drum and flute duet out of sync with the rest of the performance from those leading the flags around the field.

Everyone settled in their place, then resettled when it was discovered that one of their number wasn't comfortable. The lights went dark and the real show started. Some of his company named the songs, others made jokes about each other or the fireworks themselves.

"So," his brunette-locked friend murmured to the light curly-haired one, "they said that oiling his guns was like foreplay to movie-Ironhide and fireworks were like porn."

The two dissolved into giggles, watching the next blasts go off without comment. "Ah!" She said, laughing, "those are like those sparkling vampires exploding!"

"EXPLODING VAMPIRES!" Her friend cried with delight, causing everyone who caught the reference around them to burst into laughter. Jazz himself chuckled at that one, and at the comments about the finale not ending until a good minute after the music ending.

The packup went quickly enough and Jazz found himself the subject of a firm but cheerful expression. "Gonna give us a hand and lift us out?"

"Can't, beautiful." The compliment slipped out before he could catch it. Unlike before, however, now she accepted the token with only a slight quirk of expression and it wasn't a negative one. "I'm on orders to stay put right here."

"Snuck out, then?" She chuckled, shaking her head and beginning to forge her way through the crowd, making sure not to lose the friends heading in the same direction. "Next year?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

***

"I should let Ratchet rebuild you into something awkward," came the smooth and only slightly reproaching voice from behind him. The lights had gone out about an hour before, it was after midnight. Arms gently snaked around his waist before he could turn to face Prowl.

"I'm sore enough, he won't have to," Jazz murmured, leaning back against the police car. "Gonna take me in, Mr. Officer?"

Soft lips touched his audio. "Perhaps next year."


	7. 2011

It was hot and likely to get hotter. He spotted his friend, brown hair done up in a bun with metal claws keeping it in place, a silver flash at her throat which he was able to briefly zoom in and identify as a silver compass rose, wearing jeans and a black t-shirt, when she jogged across the parking lot in a blatant disregard for the 90 degree sun. He watched her approach the familiar maroon Geo Prism, run a gentle hand absently along the dust-caked roof and slip inside to grab the silver bit of plastic she needed to pay. The Porsche waited for her to return, slipping into the parking space next to the maroon car and was amused at the sticker she still had on the back window: a boy relieving himself on the Decepticon symbol.

She wasn't surprised to see him. "It's hot," was her greeting.

"I still like the sticker," he returned. Each year she changed, he had noticed before-- this year, the calm happiness of the summer before was gone. The air about her was weary defiance: she looked on the world as a challenge, a fight to be won. There was no dare for the universe to do its worst, however, just that sense of frustrated, exhausted determination. A refusal to be beaten.

"Shade," she said, getting into her car. "This heat is killing my joints."

She ended up sitting in his cab, drinking her soda and gazing out at the quiet rural neighborhood she had led him to. "You've changed," he told her after a bit of silence.

"Jazz," she said, "I'm constantly changing. I'm human. Thanks for the air-conditioning. It feels good. I found some good music--" she offered him an iPod, which he snaked out a cable to plug into.

"You don't think this's stealin'?" He asked, a chuckle to his voice. Now that she was closer he could see the dullness to her hair and circles under her eyes. "You sick?"

"Only with the same thing I've had the last fourteen years," she replied. "Owl City, E.S. Posthumus, Rodrigo y Gabriela, Yuki Kajiura, Tunng. Oh, and the album Almost Alice."

"Sorry to hear it," Jazz returned truthfully. He found the artists and songs she had mentioned and sampled them, making thoughtful noises. "Interesting spread. You know your artists."

"I try," she said, leaning back. "How are things where you are? New movie."

"Seen it?" He asked, receiving a headshake as a reply. "Gonna?" Another negative headshake. "Don't blame you. Even the boss's got mixed feelings over it."

"Imagine he would," she said. "That bad, huh?"

"Nah," he drawled, settling. "Just nothin' t'talk about. Same old, same old."

"You'll get there," she said, smiling faintly. "I like this, you know. I'm glad you keep coming."

"I'm glad you're still here," he returned, "it's gonna bum me out when I can't find you."

"Never happen," she said, climbing out of his cab and patting his roof. The motion was familiar, but he didn't mind; she and her friends had piled on his stomach before while watching the fireworks. Speaking of.

"Not going tonight, I take it," he said, turning his wheels toward her.

"Got work tomorrow," she replied. "Six AM. Besides..." she trailed off, then shook her head. "Anyway. Not worth it. Keep coming around, Jazz, I'll be here."

"I will," he returned, pulling out of the shaded driveway and heading down the road.


	8. 2012

"I think the pup saw you yesterday," she said, knowing he would hear her. A silver chuckle chimed in the air.

"I must be gettin' old, if a puppy as distractable as that scrap a' fur can be noticin' me."

A small smile curled the side of her mouth, matching the grim pain in her brown eyes. "Pups and kids can see things the rest of us can't."

Jazz paused, remembering the ferocity with which she had shoved the dusty maroon sedan over complicated country roads in the heat of the previous afternoon. The same desperation had been clear in the way she had handled the car then as was in her posture now. 

"That's a pause," she told him, standing stoic in the parking lot. 

"Wonderin' about you," he replied carefully. "You've never had this particular look about you before."

"I--" It was a scrap of sound, too brief to be called a word. Her body language, spoken from a frame of more muscle than fat, more ache than movement, again told a story. Tears were close to the surface, but denied in a single blink of long practice. "Humans change."

"I see that more'n more with every one of these reunions," was the Autobot's reply. "For once I'm wonderin' if--"

"I'll be around next year," she said quickly. Too quickly, with a bite of resentment and flash of guilt. 

He realized where he had seen her postures before. Walking wounded, they were called, soldiers desperate to get back to the battle field, where things made sense, but knowing full well they would never be able to pick up the fight again. "I'd take you back with me, if I could," he offered, knowing she would never accept. She might have, once, but not now.

The small smile returned. "I know," she responded, gently. "I might have given up on a lot of things, Jazz, but there are folks here who ... well, they say they appreciate me being around."

"I wouldn't doubt it," the mech returned. 

"I'll be around for a while, yet," she said, "I'd hate to disappoint on our yearly meetings."

It was a goodbye if Jazz had ever heard one. He started his engine and crept forward to gently tap her on the side of her leg. "Take care of yourself," he offered.

"That's all I can do," she agreed. "You, too, Jazz. Drop by any time."


	9. 2013

They had both changed, but both wore the same form. She looked back across the field, over the road and seemingly through the buildings beyond to an unknown point, expression and gaze unreadable. 

"I saw a homeless man just now," she told him, after he had pulled up past the ineffective fence to park beside her ailing Geo Prism. "He had a smart phone and was sending a text. I wondered how he could afford it and I can't."

"Sure he was homeless?" The silver voice replied, amused both at the greeting and the question itself. 

"Looked it," was the simple response. They waited, then, listening to the mocking birds shrill mimicry of the day to day sounds of the area. Not just other bird calls, but car alarms, building alarms, the beeps of security key-pads, even a ring tone or two. 

"Gotta thing on your arm," he noted, referring to the bandage seen clearly on her right forearm.

"It's been hot," she shrugged, "my body doesn't react well. You look good. Healthy. Sound rested."

"I am," he agreed. Another comfortable silence stretched between them, until she turned, retrieving a forgotten keybadge from her car. "You lost your hair," he added, a grin in his voice.

"End of last summer," she said, a faint smile touching weary features. "It was time. It's still too long."

"Always findin' somethin' t'complain about," he teased. To his surprise, she grinned at him from under the faded bill of the once-black San Francisco 49ers cap pulled down low on her brow.

"I am," she agreed. "But not as much as some."

Jazz's sensors washed over his friend and, though he remained in his vehicle form, he somehow conveyed the impression he had tilted his head questioningly. She stood her 5'3'' casually, radiating faint unease but in such a way he knew it wasn't with his presence ... if anything, it was with her own company. Feigned confidence covering dissatisfaction with the status quo. Even so, her tone and gaze were friendly, if distant. Some might say guarded. He marveled at how much she changed year to year, as well as over all since they had met in 2004.

"Everything all right on your front?" She wanted to know, steady brown gaze truly interested. He bobbed on his shocks in a vehicular shrug. 

"As it can be," he gave back. "Considerin'."

"Perpetual war can be that way," she mused. "Well, might not be within my life time, but it will end within yours, my friend. I take it 'cause you're here it means you won't be going this evening?"

"Will you?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

Predictably, she shook her head, the sky's pink light making what little of her hair could be seen deepen from brown to black. "Six-am shift," she said unnecessarily, casting a gesture back over one shoulder at the building they were behind. "Every year I swear we'll meet somewhere else, but I always seem to be just apathetic enough to wind up back here."

"You're the last one I'd call lazy," he objected, rolling forward to nudge a thigh ever so lightly. "But you'd best be gettin' inside. Six comes soon."

"Yeah," she agreed. "Take care. Last thing I want is to see a friend on the news."

"You, too," he said, and meant it.

Carie smiled. "Jazz, if I were to take that route, I'd've done it already. Not saying I haven't thought it, but ... " a sigh which was more amused than melodramatic. "I'm just that sadistic, or stubborn, and keep going. I don't want to have to do all this again and next time, I might not meet you."

"Well then," he said, chuckling, "that right there is the best reason why not. Get goin', see you next year."


	10. 2014

"Hey."

A familiar voice, mostly familiar in any case, from an unfamiliar source. Instead of the dusty maroon Geo he hadn't found in his last few days of searching, a champagne Toyota. Just as dusty, he noticed with a mental smile, though far more decorated: Autobot symbol covering the Toyota logo, another around the license plate, other banners of what the humans typically referred to as geekdom. A Pride coexist, a San Francisco 49ers tag, both of which brought home how little he actually knew about the friend he had made an annual trip to Sonoma County to meet for the last ten years. 

An older woman was climbing carefully from the car, retrieving a cooler from the back seat. The voice had been his friend, catching her attention. "Keep safe, have fun."

It was the kind of thing a parent would say to a child, not the other way around, but their ages were reversed. The younger was driving away, leaving the older heading in to see the fireworks later that evening. Interesting. 

Jazz started up his nearly silent engine and glided out of the parking lot a few cars behind the Toyota, ignoring the coveting glances. He was used to those; a Porsche of black and white with sophisticated red and blue piping along its sides got its fair share of attention. He followed his friend home for the second time of their acquaintance, noting the differences the year had wrought when the Toyota stopped in a familiar driveway and the driver stepped out. The black work boots were the same, but the slacks, man's shirt and ball cap spoke to a decision made. 

He transformed and reached out and, for once, his friend reached back, placing a palm on the tip of his index finger. A hint of a smile on the usually sour lips, calm and frustration in equal measures swirling in chocolate brown eyes. 

"That I could transform as easily as you, Jazz."

That brought a smile to his silver face. "You're doin' a good job of it on your own. When'd this happen?"

"It's been around, but I finally figured it out last October. Or did you mean the car?"

"That, too," he allowed. "I've been lookin' for the Geo."

A grimace. "The timing belt snapped and I got excruciatingly lucky to acquire the Galloper so quickly after that." The grimace turned to a grin and his friend turned to survey the silent vehicle. "Tho my friends have deemed him, it, the Comicon Car. I miss the Geo, but this one will serve me well for a long time, yet."

"Good," Jazz said, very gently tapping the roof of the car with the index finger of his free hand. "I know you'll be good to it."

"Of course," came the quick reply. "I could hardly do anything else. How've you been?"

"This'n'that," he replied easily, leaning back with a soft laugh. "Kickin' tires, takin' names. Speakin' of ...?"

"Next year," his friend promised. "I'm not quite ready to shift over yet. It's a hard road, but I'm walking it willingly, with good friends at my side. Say, if you're ever in North Carolina, check up on my friend at the Coast Guard base there?"

"Will do," Jazz agreed, finally pulling his hand back and transforming again.

"Stay the night, if you want." The offer was quick and genuine. "It's a quiet place, no one will bother you. Except me, leaving tomorrow morning at five am."

"I think I might," Jazz mused, situating himself at the curb in front of the house he had seen his friend enter a couple of years before. "If I'm not here in the mornin'..."

"See you next year, Jazz."


	11. 2015

"I know I've got pants on underneath, but I may just keep these pants on all night."

The peculiarity of the overheard statement caught Jazz's attention upon his arrival to the small high school he had been visiting for this particular celebration for the last ... how long had it been, now? He checked his memory archives and realized that it had been at least eleven years. The school had changed in that time, and so had he.

"If you've got pants on underneath, why don't you just--" the girl's companion mimed taring away his own pants with both hands and they shared a laugh. Something about the cadence of his voice and phrasing pinged Jazz's memory stack.

"Oh, believe me," the girl was saying, "if these were tear-away pants I'd do that," she mimicked the mime, "at every opportunity, kids around or not!"

They laughed again and continued on their way toward where the obligatory food of questionable value was being sold. Jazz stepped carefully over to the bleachers where he typically sprawled to make sure he wasn't in the way of anyone's view, wondering why the pair had seemed so familiar. He was in the midst of getting comfortable when the ping returned--

"I've been thinking about you for the last week," his friend said by way of greeting. The two were now standing in front of him, hands full of the prizes they had purchased from the vendors. Jazz grinned at his long-time friend and tapped the bleacher on the side of himself that would be closer to the fireworks when they started. 

"Take a seat," he invited, "let's get caught up." There was an ease about him that Jazz had never seen before, one that made the mech sure his processor had supplied the correct pronoun, despite their prior meetings. "You look great. You both do. I take it life's been treatin' you well?"

"Hardly!" His friend laughed. The third member of their group settled to her meal, occasionally pausing to look around at the crowd. At first, Jazz assumed that was she was looking for someone, then noticed that his friend was doing it as well, having situated himself to be able to scan the crowd in the opposite direction as her.

"Expectin' trouble?" The mech asked.

The two humans looked at each other, beginning to grin.

"We do seem to have set ourselves up to watch where the other can't see," his friend agreed. They both began to laugh. 

"I guess I still have sniper mentality," the girl said cheerily. 

"And I've always had sentry mindset," his friend added, just as cheerful. "Don't worry, Jazz," his friend added, "I just haven't been in such a mass of seething humanity in a while. It's habit."

"Last time I was in this kind of seething mass," she considered, "it was at a convention."

"Conventions don't count," his friend objected. "They're made of nerds. Nerds are wonderful creatures."

Jazz watched the two with their easy camaraderie and realized he was comparing the two to the Lamborghini twins in his processor, rather than himself and Prowl. Before he could ask anything about it, the announcement was made that it was time for the national anthem. Together the three of them watched the parade of flags file around the track of the field and everyone in the crowd stand and turn to face them. Once the respect had been dutifully paid, everyone began to situate themselves again in preparation for the show they had actually come to see. Jazz settled and watched with amusement as his long time friend hoisted himself up into his torso and extended a hand down to his companion to help her up as well.

They had small discussions during the show, one or the other commenting on a nice color or how they missed a certain firework styles from when they were younger. "Imagine Steve seeing a modern fireworks show for the first time," one of them commented.

"Steve?" He asked curiously.

"Steve Rogers," he was told with a grin. "You know what his birthday is, right?"

"Of course," the other replied, under the sounds of explosions. "I want to see a shield made of fireworks."

"That was almost one!"

They fell quiet again, appreciating the show until it was almost over. "What's with those colors?" His friend asked, "It's like ... Halloween fireworks, all the orange and green."

"Or spring fireworks," his friend agreed. Jazz could hear the laughter in her voice. "Oops, we ran out of the red-white-and-blue ones, gotta move on to the other holidays with pink and yellow and green and orange!"

When it was over he followed them to their vehicles; her motorcycle and his friend's tan Toyota covered in its celebration of nerdisms. 

"Best friend," his friend supplied, once she had been seen off. 

"I noticed," Jazz returned. "I meant what I said before, man, you look good. Better than I've ever seen you, in fact. Settled. Happy."

"Not quite," he replied. "Getting there. Trying, anyway. How about you? Prowl okay? They're treating him like absolute shit in the comics."

"Eh," was Jazz's opinion. "Fiction, creative license. I make sure he doesn't see it, though. It'd make him pretty angry, to see himself simplified and vilified like that. It'd make him pretty angry."

"Maybe he should be."

Jazz let the statement stand with only a slight sound, leaving it up to his friend to decide what he meant. "So," he said, knowing they were both ready to move on for the night, "what do I call you, now? Your old name just don't fit."

"James," his friend replied with a genuine smile. 

"See you next year, James?" Jazz asked, sliding into his Porsche. 

"Maybe not here," James said, climbing into his car, "but yeah. Wouldn't miss it."


End file.
